Cat Toys & Bike Rags

On New Years Eve, like every other American, I frantically rip through my closet, garage and crannies to pull out the weird hats, funky party-boy shirts, bedazzled shoes and donate the fashionable lot Goodwill.  Today’s the last day to donate to charity in order to get the deduction on your taxes for this calendar year.  Then, like every other American on New Years Eve, we take our pink receipts home, cheer that we made the deadline at midnight and party till we puke.

I got a head start yesterday.  As the pile of fashion cast off’s overtook my bed, I realized that I had at least eight t-shirts in the pile.  While I had found enough flaws with them to remove them from my ’09 wardrobe, I realized I still had use for them…as bike rags and cat toys.  With my patented Best Bike Rags and Pet Toys Ever technique, I could get eight bike rags out of every shirt and make one giant super-fun cat or dog toy with the scraps.  Here’s how to turn your ugly closet fodder freebee bike race t-shirts into something green like bike rags and pet toys.

Start with the tool of the trade: a Fiskars fabric scissors.  These are like the Campy Record of the scissors world.  Even the most man-handed of us all can nearly cut a straight line in one of these.  Nearly.  Granted you won’t win any bonus points for your technique from Grandma, you’re guaranteed to get relatively uniform sized straight edged bike rags with one of these babies.

Step 1: Starting at the shoulder, cut off both of the collar bone seams and neck in one piece.  (see photo at left for reference)  You’ll need this neck/shoulder part later to make your supa-fun cat/dog toy.

Step 2: Cut off the sleeves.  Then make a cut so each sleeve is no longer an arm-tube, but instead a nice little rag perfect for those hard to reach places on your bike.

Step 3: Cut the shirt horizontally about 3 inches south of the armpits. 

Step 4: On the top half, cut the little piece of 3 inch fabric between the armpit and the horizontal cut.

Step 5: Cut the top and bottom halves vertically.          

Congratulations!  You now have eight bike rags: two small from the arms, 4 medium from the upper torso, 2 large from the tummy.

Make your pet toy now.

For cats, tie all the shoulder-neck parts together in a big long multi colored “cat dancer.”  Drag it on the floor and your cat will follow you around forever.  Whip it up in the air and see kitty do bitchin’ Olympic style aerial moves.  Or, tie it to the banister of the stairs and watch kitty fruitlessly try to grab and run away with it only for the toy to win the tug-of-war every time. 

For dogs, make a tug-of-war toy.  Use the strongest t-shirt neck as the center and then tie the other pieces into big ball knots at either end.  However, like with most dogs, your toy will likely become the eventual looser.  And, like most dog-toys, it’ll be fun while it lasted.

Mangotmedown and other new CX Cats

USA cycling has done a great job with the new cyclocross categories divided by expertise level and age. However, cross is growing. I heard they’re getting fields of 100 in the Portland area. Already there are single speed CX categories and Clydesdale categories for the big girls and boys. Still, a one time podium level rider can all of a sudden find themselves struggling not to get lapped because of changes with work, family or a new found love of Cheetos. Maybe some adjustment is necessary. To help spread out the ever growing fields and make competition fairer, I’ve come up with a few ideas for new CX sub-categories based rider lifestyle. For example there could be a Cat 3 Ringers race, a Masters 1/2/3 35+ Junkies race or maybe a Cat 3/4 45+ Single Speed Clydesdale Mangotmedown Race.

Junkies:

People with no responsibilities beyond racing bicycles. I don’t know how you managed to make the rest of your life a mere formality, but congratulations to you, (and your left hand) for getting it done. You’re in a class by yourself.

Ringers:

People with athletic careers. Gym teachers, fitness instructors, pole dancers, I’m on to you. You can call it “work” all you want, but I know it’s all a diabolical secret evil training camp that you actually get paid for.

Loafers:

People with barely supervised day jobs. Like George Costanza from Seinfeld you sleep under your desk, waltz out everyday at 11a for a two hour “lunch” ride, roll into work whenever you need to pick up your check, and have the cowbells to send out emails suggesting that others meet you for a five o’clock ride on a weekday. You got it pretty good so just shut up.

Lovahs:

Loafers with relationships. You’ve got the time to train, you just have to be strategic about it and divide your time wisely between your significant other and your true love…your bike.

Snackers:

Gu, Cytomax and Gatorade? What’s wrong with McNuggets tucked in the elastic of your shorts, Coca-cola in the water bottles and ham gravy recovery drinks? Not a damn thing, but you definitely have no business lining up behind someone with Stars and Stripes on their sleeves.

Babymama or Babydaddy:

Lovahs who took it to a whole nutha level and whose training time in minutes is far surpassed by the number of diapers changed this week. Besides, you only got 3 hours of sleep this week; it’s just too dangerous to ride with other people. That’s why we’ll take down the caution tape and get rid of the barriers for your one lap race. We’ll start the race by dropping a bomb, because even a starter’s pistol may not get you to lift your big sleepy head off your handlebars.

Mangotmedown:

You got the lettuce to support your bike fetish, now only if you had the time to eek in your only thirty minute ride this week before your boss calls on your PDA again.

The Cat Peed On Me...and other excuses for missing a race

We are dangerously close to the first original post on The Best Bike Blog Ever. Granted the stories about Cincinnati's UCI 3-day cyclocross weekend were original, however they weren't written specifically for this blog. If you didn't know, AOL is closing it's Journals. As of October 31st my former blog, "Joe Biker" on AOL, will be gone forever, update your bookmarks & favorites. While just about everything has been moved and I'm pretty happy with the layout and appearance, I regretfully haven't had time to write new content for The Best Bike Blog Ever. In the works is an article about the handful of bike shops scattered across the nation from Key West to Kaanapali that live in the happy dusty corners of my travel memories. Stay tuned and thanks for reading. Til then, here's a classic from the former Joe Biker Blog on AOL dated Thursday, July 5, 2007.

The Cat Peed On Me...and other excuses for missing a race

The cat peed on me. That’s why I didn’t race DINO AMBC at Muskawhatevertuck. Now, I know what you’re saying, “but you’re Joe Biker and nothing stops you from racing!” Well I’m sorry teammates and friends. Apparently, this Bio Wheels racer has found his Kryptonite.

I’ve raced with a leg brace just months after ACL reconstruction. Carson Palmer ain’t got jack on me. Losing my tire a quarter of a lap into the 6 Hours of John Bryan last year didn’t stop me. I rode the rim, still kept the 2nd place team behind us. But cat piss on my backside at 5am the morning of an AMBC race spelled immediate disaster.

I got to bed late for a race, maybe around midnight. But, the DINO start time was noon, so I thought I could sleep till 8ish, and still make the 2 hour drive with plenty of time to get lost and/or get in a good warm up. It was a nice two Grolsh induced slumber.

We normally put our two cats, 14 year old Hanna and 2 year old Tsali (pretty cool name huh?) in the basement before we go to bed. Cats have a weird fascination with sleeping humans. And, that whole standing on your chest and sucking your breath out thing, myth or not, still freaks me out. So, in the basement they go. Except for last Saturday night. Remember I had two beers. For a cyclist, that’s pretty much hammered pass out drunk. So, we left the cats out and hit the hay.

I’m not sure if I noticed the time on the clock or the wetness on my butt first, both were shocking. It was 5:05am. I reached back with my right hand above the covers and they were soaked. “Did I? No. It’s not my front side! What the!? (sniffing my hand) Omigod!! Hanna!!!!”

The wetness went through the blanket, sheet, my boxers, the sheet with the elastic corners and down into the mattress pad. Luckily it stopped there. I’ve never stripped the bed so quick. At 5:06 the washer was going with the first load, while I sprayed Pet Out™ on the rest of the bedding.

After shoeing the bad cat in the basement, I sat in a huff on the sofa, turned on the replay of the Busch Series Nascar race on ESPN and realized that by the time I got two loads of wash through the dryer, it would be 7am. I wouldn’t be able to sleep for more than 20 minutes at a crack before I’d have to switch loads.

I was doomed. I was pissed off. I looked at the clock again and realized that I’d have to face some of the fastest mountain bike racers in the Midwest in a matter of hours on less than 5 hours sleep. Then my little back ache from doing the Hyde Park Blast the day before crept in.

In all reality I was considering a 2 hour drive to get my ass handed to me by those Indiana boys. No thanks. I opened my book, Bobke 2, and Bob Roll and I suffered together.